


Unbreakable

by Chya



Category: Mutant X
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-05
Updated: 2003-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chya/pseuds/Chya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shalimar angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unbreakable

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to JillyW for comma-patrol and very helpful suggestions. Also to Claire for her wonderful comments.

I can hear them in the background, whispered voices down the hall, Emma's calming tones soothing over the top of Adam's low grumble.

They don't know what to do. Only Emma can take the hurt away but even if she was willing to try, I think perhaps that it would be too much even for her.

I don't know what to feel. It's my feelings that brought all this about after all. All those raging, wildly fluctuating feral emotions that I thought I could control, have been so frightened of losing control of for as long as I can remember, that have caused this.

I don't even know what truly happened, and that's why I'm sitting here in the pilot style chair that Jesse favours so much for spending long hours in front of his computers. It's dark because I don't want the lights on. To do that would push Jesse away from me, and right now that's the last thing I want to do.

The smell of blood is thick and heavy in the air, the copper tang making my mouth water and stomach nauseous, and I know I'll be showering for days to get rid of it when I'm done. But I need this.

The monitor awaits my command to begin, as it has done so patiently for the last I don't know how long. I tap a key and the first of four short surveillance tapes flickers to life on the screen. And as the truth unfolds before me, the confusion that has knotted my insides shrinks and fades to nothing. My face can only be a blank canvas as for the first time in my life the turmoil, the rage and passion, the entire maelstrom of my emotions, is stilled.

Yet I feel the tears pouring down my face, a meaningless waterfall of emptiness.

I watch. I take it all in.

And I feel nothing at all.

There were too many of them, Jesse could see that, and with a clinical precision they'd isolated each of the other three, leaving him as the only one free to move.

He'd hidden the girl they'd been trying to rescue safely away in a pipe, one that she could use to crawl out to where Adam waited in the Double Helix.

But they all needed to get there too. All it would take was a little time and determination and they'd certainly faced worse odds before. So Jesse did what he was best at; running interference, defending when it was needed, taking out as many as he could with an uppercut here or a kick there, or better still, phasing them away into the wall or the floor.

A cry from Emma and he was spinning in front of her as she picked herself up, his massed self protecting her from an onslaught of fists and boots while she pulled herself together. A quick glance to check on Shalimar and Brennan, both cutting down their attackers left, right and centre.

Take a breath, duck a fist, kick out to connect solidly with someone's gut.

Mass and glance. There. A man on the low balcony above Brennan with a high-powered rifle sighted on Shalimar. A sigh of thanks from behind told him that Emma was back on her feet and good to go.

He yelled a warning at Shalimar to watch out as he virtually threw himself towards the balcony, but the feral didn't seem to have heard.

The instant his hand hit the railing he phased the whole thing, no time for finesse, the man screaming as he fell through the balcony, through the floor below, surprising Jesse as he hadn't realised his phasing had reached so far.

Neither had Brennan, on the outskirts of the phased area. He stumbled as the floor disappeared, but caught his footing as Jesse instantly let it all snap back to normal density. It might have been just a small lurch that Brennan made, but in the slowing of time that so often occurs when the brain knows what's going to happen before the body has time to respond, Jesse saw the second sniper opposite and above.

If Brennan hadn't stumbled, the bullet would have missed.

It didn't.

Horrified, Jesse jumped down to take on all comers over Brennan's bleeding body, unseeing as shock tried to take over, blindly striking out at everyone that dared come near until Emma's hand on his arm told him that they'd done enough, that there was no one left to fight. And then Shalimar's hiss of rage cut through the fog, prompting him into meaningful action.

I was so angry then. I lashed out at Jesse because I'd seen him phase the floor beneath Brennan and, after all the training Adam makes us go through, I thought he'd been careless, taken unnecessary risks. But those are things that Jesse has never been prone to. He's meticulous to a fault and risks are carefully calculated, which is why it gets to him that his powers have become so hard to control.

I couldn't see that at the time. I did see Jesse's eyes wide and shocked, but I hurled abuse at him anyway. I knew he could and would take it. I knew he'd forgive me. I even knew I'd be there to help him forgive himself. You see, we've been there before, helping each other when we made mistakes with our powers. It wasn't the first time one of us had hurt someone by accident. Except that usually it was me that hurt someone. Not Jesse. Never Jesse. The only person he ever hurt was himself, and he never could understand why I'd get mad at him for that. It wasn't like he did it on purpose, but I can't help that because it hurts me to see my friends hurt.

And seeing Brennan lying there with blood pouring from his chest and mouth, eyes wide with panic as he gasped for breath, it hurt me deeper than I'd ever hurt before.

In the days after, while Brennan lay comatose, lost in the mists between the living and the dead, I was caught between two men that I loved more than life.

With Brennan it was simple and relatively new and fresh. He was uncomplicated yet smart and caring, and there were depths to him that he glossed over day to day. He was someone with whom, maybe one day, I could have made a life and I was in love with the potential. But either way, I cared about him. I still do care, but there can never be any more.

The bond between Jesse and I was forged a long time ago through both joy and adversity. The only thing we'd started out with in common was a mutual distrust of people. I guess it would be hard for anyone to believe now, but when we first met we were both so emotionally bruised that even Adam had a hard time communicating with either of us, and it's a testament to his patience that both Jesse and I have come so far.

When Adam first brought me to Sanctuary, I was half dead with starvation and so accustomed to being used and abused that it took a long time for me to come out of this feral, defensive shell I'd built. I'd hide in the bedroom Adam had assigned me by day, but at night I'd prowl around the place, exploring and stealing food that I hadn't quite grasped was mine to take as I pleased.

And every night I'd end up watching the boy Adam had told me lived there too. The boy, while only a couple of years younger than me, was just a little kid in my eyes purely because of his innocent aura. I only ever saw him in the same chair, in front of the same computer. Sometimes his fingers would be tapping over the keyboard, though more often his eyes would be covered by Virtual Reality goggles, and always he wore headphones that were plugged into music. Sometimes rock, sometimes jazz or classical amongst others, but always loud. Certainly loud enough that I could hear it clearly.

One day after I'd gotten brave enough to talk to Adam, if from the far side of the room, I asked him about the kid. He told me that Jesse was a mutant too and that he desperately needed a friend to bring him out of his shell.

I think I just grunted non-committally or something before retreating to my hidey-hole, because I remember Adam's face going from hopeful to disappointed. But why should I care? I think I was probably too used to putting myself first at that point. It was the only way to survive where I came from.

I spent a lot of time hiding and watching back then, watching Adam, the other odd person that wandered in, as well as the kid, and Adam just let me do as I pleased, only making a point of thanking me with a genuine smile on the occasions I'd get up the courage to talk to him.

Being used to violence for simply talking out of turn, or just being in the wrong place, as I got braver I started acting up. Trying to see how far I could go before he'd yell and hit me.

But he never did, not even when I did some really wild stuff.

He'd always wait until I'd calmed down, sit me down, explain why I was in trouble and ask me what was wrong, for my side of the story, listen to whatever I needed to say. Then he'd make me go clean a car or two, or take a lesson in history or politics or something appropriate to the crime.

Slowly he got to know my past and helped me out of my prickly shell, but that didn't mean I could trust him. I was still looking for his ulterior motive, and I even thought at one point that maybe he liked his women to act classy and intelligent or something. Either way I was just biding my time, taking what I could get until the day he screwed me over.

And still the kid never moved from his computer. I watched him more and more. It seemed to me that the kid was wasting away in his virtual world. He ate and slept, but nowhere near enough for his size and age. I tried to take him some food once, but Adam stopped me, said he used to do that, said that if we brought all the necessities to him he'd never move from that chair. Even the chair looked uncomfortable, straight backed and hard, and Adam smiled sadly when he said that while he couldn't stop Jesse from hiding from the world, that didn't mean he had to make it easy.

I think for a while I got obsessed with watching Jesse. On the rare occasions that he ventured away from the computer the kid moved like an old man, yet always kept to the shadows close to the wall, never leaving any sign of his passing. He always left the bathroom and kitchen as if untouched, and even his own room was pristine and clear of anything remotely personal.

By that time my own hidey-hole under the bed had expanded to include the top of the bed and the side table, an island of chaos amidst the spotless unused majority. But Jesse's bed didn't look like it had ever been slept in even though I know he did for short spells. It was like he was afraid of anyone finding out that he existed.

Well, I knew he existed and I didn't care what he wanted. But I did want to know what he was doing; I've always been nosey like that.

So when he next crept away, I sat in that hard chair and looked. Now even then I was pretty good with computers. You learn a thing or two on the street, you know? I was willing to bet he was playing games or had a fantasy world set up, something like that maybe. I wasn't far wrong on either count. His VR interface was every teenage boy's wet dream, and I chose to ignore that it looked a bit like me - or a lot like me if I was older and vamped up. So maybe the kid was more aware than he let on. And the games he played were real. Real toys and real people. Odd little programs that transferred stocks, bonds and cash from random accounts into other random accounts. College emails diverted to the wrong recipients causing embarrassment and chaos. But the most disturbing thing was the obsession with all things secret service. CIA, CBI et al. Monitoring and playing games.

Cool that he'd hacked into them, though.

Bottom line seemed to be that the boy who didn't think he existed wanted someone, anyone, to notice him, even if he didn't know it. He was damaged and hurting, no matter where he came from and no matter that it was in a manner far different from my own. And always, I've never been able to stand seeing an innocent in pain. Call it compassion, call it feral instinct, call it what you like, but seeing the kid hurting like that I had to do something. So I waited in that seat until he came back.

'You can't be here,' he said as he carefully held his mug of coffee. 'Go away.'

'No, you need to get a life,' I replied, determined to annoy the hell out of him. Well, it beat mooching around by myself all night.

'I don't want you here,' he said flatly.

'Well, that's a lie,' I told him and he flushed bright red as I caught him out. But Jesse has always been stubborn, as I discovered then when he turned on his heel and disappeared out the door.

Over the next few days I really got under the kid's skin, but then he changed tactics. When he found me sitting in his chair, he'd stand in the shadows and stare at me until I was the one getting freaked out. He stared at me for two hours straight one night, until I couldn't stand it anymore. I really wanted to throttle him, and sprang at him from the chair. But he just stood there as I went to hit him, a deterrent I'd learned to employ at an early age. Except my hand went straight through him. I couldn't help but gape.

'Yeah,' he said bitterly. 'Me too.' Then he vanished into the wall.

It ceased to be about amusing myself, or even about compassion. To have a normal two-way conversation with this kid became a challenge, and I have never been able to resist a challenge.

It wasn't until a long time after that Adam told me how much hope I'd given him then for both Jesse's future and mine when I started talking to him about Jesse as well as myself.

Of course it makes me laugh now but, being the kind of person I am, I kept trying to confront the kid. That worked about as well as a chocolate fireguard since he avoided confrontation of any sort like the plague, and with his unique abilities cornering him was out of the question.

In the end, he came to me. I'd used Adam's prototype training program without his permission and had my ass well and truly kicked. When I woke up with the headache from hell, it was Jesse that was mopping my brow. He kinda smiled and told me what an asshole I'd been. I had to agree and told him this asshole would help him get a life. And he laughed.

I guess being younger then, and having our own reasons not to trust adults, we found it easier to trust each other than Adam. That came later, and slowly over time. I don't think any of us realised how much he meant to us until his kid brother died. Nothing horrible, just one of those mundane things that happen in every day life. He just dropped dead suddenly from an aneurysm or something, but it hit Adam hard. And it only seemed natural that Jesse and I would pick up the slack and be there for him.

It's been a few years since Adam first brought me here and, in that time, the bond between us - especially Jesse and I, I thought - had grown so strong it was unbreakable. His first birthday here Adam got him that pilot's chair, and I gave him the smiley face mug that he still uses to rest his coffee on the arm.

And that's how I knew that Jesse would forgive my harsh words and how I knew we'd help each other heal, no matter what the outcome was for Brennan.

The tears have dried up while I recalled the more distant past, yet I have still to face three more surveillance tapes before I'm done. I didn't really need that last tape to tell me that Jesse did his damndest. We all knew the risks and Jesse has always given his all and more, no matter what.

I still feel numb though; even my fingers seem numb as I tap the key that'll take me on to the next clip. Internal this time, one that Emma tried to get me to watch at a point when watching it would have meant something. Now, it only confirms what deep down I knew all along.

Brennan lay on the black bench, still and grey. They'd done everything possible to remove the bullet and repair the damage. It would have been enough to kill some, but Brennan was strong and fit and stood some slight chance of pulling through, although he looked like he'd already died.

Jesse leaned against the doorway, watching Shalimar standing by the bench, holding and stroking Brennan's hand, talking to him. Telling him happy, funny stories about the day she'd had, going shopping with Emma, the dirty old man that had tried to chat her up. About Adam's near miss with the boiled potatoes that exploded in the microwave.

At the usual sigh and brief silent moment of thought that concluded her regular visitation Jesse backed out of the doorway into the corridor. Shalimar didn't look like she was going to be forgiving, or even talking to him any time soon, and he didn't want to make matters any worse by allowing her to think he was eavesdropping.

Cool and calm, she swept into the corridor. Hesitated when she saw him. Almost passed him by, but hesitated. That soft voice with an underlying hard tone suggesting that Jesse do penance at Brennan's bedside.

And when she'd gone, as he always did after he was certain she'd left for good, he ghosted into the lab and did the penance she wanted from him. Because it didn't really matter what she thought, or how full of anger she was. Didn't matter what any of them thought or felt. No one could come even close to matching the condemnation he was heaping upon himself.

He hated that he'd caused a friend to be hurt, to be dying right here in front of him - and he did count Brennan as a friend, though their start had been rocky. And he hated that he'd probably destroyed any real chance Shalimar may have had at happiness with Brennan. Not that he could ever understand what the feral saw in the comatose elemental, but if she thought he could make her happy then he was all for that. Didn't mean Jesse had to make it easy for him… but in any case, it was too late for all that now, they were speeding right past any possibility of that ever happening.

What frightened Jesse the most, though, was not so much losing Brennan - he'd cope with that, he'd dealt with people dying before, had watched his own mother die, and while it'd be hard, of course, it wasn't something he was scared of. At least, not as much as losing Shalimar.

At first, he'd been certain that once she'd calmed down, and Adam had fixed Brennan up, they'd be able to forgive, reconcile and move on. He'd actually seen Brennan himself as his major obstacle to finding forgiveness and closure. But as Brennan's fight for life became weaker, so the once unbreakable bond between Shalimar and Jesse began to crack and splinter.

She'd been there in the beginning, pulled him back from the brink of passive self-destruction, but he'd never been entirely certain that she understood how close a thing that had been. She'd shown him how to live and trust in others again, that he had the right to be who he was. And he felt that he'd had a positive impact on her life. Felt that he'd returned the favour somewhat, helped her to see that not everyone would kick her or cage her. They'd helped each other and forged a bond deeper than that of blood kin.

Jesse stared at Brennan for the longest time, willing the elemental to wake up and start throwing curses and sparks, fill the room with his constant energy.

But he just lay there, grey and unmoving.  
I never realised that Jesse had spent so much time with Brennan over those few days. All I could see was that he was cold and uncaring, preferring to play with his computers while the rest of us fussed and worried.

We tried hard to get on with life as usual. Adam said we needed to have something to tell Brennan about every day and he was right. I thought Jesse was being selfish and told him so. I told him a lot of things then because he was safe to lash out at. Loudly. And on several occasions.

Emma tried to stop me a couple of times, while Jesse just stood there and took it, reminiscent of those times when we were younger. Except then, I was trying to break through his shell, whereas now he was giving me a safe outlet for my rage. My biggest regret at this point was that I even went so far as to tell Jesse I wished it were him on that bench. I'd do absolutely anything to take those words back.

Adam told Emma to let me and Jesse sort it out between us like we'd always done in the past. I'm not sure I can forgive Adam for that, because one of them might have said or done something that could have changed things. But I can't blame them for my shortcomings.

I wish the feral part of me didn't heighten my feelings so damned much, I wish I was normal and didn't have the wildly extreme emotions that come as part of what makes me different. I can't say that there aren't some aspects of my powers I enjoy, but I'd rather be normal and keep those I love safe from the inevitable hurt by me any day.

I hate having this mutancy I didn't choose, hate the lack of control it gives me over myself, although I can't help wondering if Emma doesn't feel the same for the exact opposite reasons, having to deal with everyone else's emotions so much that there isn't room for her own.

And I hate what it takes away from me.

There was something blossoming between Brennan and I before, something in its very beginning stages, but any chance of seeing if there was a future there is irrevocably gone now. In fact I don't see any future at all.

I'm still numb, but my finger trembles as I tap the key to see the next bit of footage taken from the military base surveillance feed.

We had to retrieve a disk and blow up the data storage area it came from, it doesn't matter why now. I was providing the distraction, keeping the way clear for Jesse to get in and out of the target, and loving the opportunity to take out my anger on soldiers who were willing to take whatever I could dish out.

Emma had her finger on the button that would take out the data repository and we were ready to go, just awaiting Jesse's word that he was out with the disk.

The word came and I got my ass out of there, with thirty seconds to get out to where Emma was waiting in the car before she hit the button. Jesse was on the far side of the compound, and had a motorbike parked over there to take him home, while Emma and I would take the long way home in the Mustang.

And like Brennan was Jesse's mistake, so Jesse is mine.

The disk safely in his pocket, Jesse ran for the perimeter fence as he called the all clear to the women.

He had thirty seconds to get through the fence, outside of the explosion's projected concussion zone.

He was nearly foiled by the dog that sprang out of nowhere, snapping at his arm and pants, but he phased out and kept going, inhaling with relief as he passed through the fence. As he moved, he patted the disk to reassure himself it was still safe, faltering as his fingers encountered only torn cloth.

Damn, but he would not fail now. He'd already failed Brennan, he was not going to fail all those new mutants whose safety was relying on that disk. Spinning on his heel, he saw the glint of light reflecting off the disk's case just a few metres inside the perimeter fence.

The seconds ticked slowly by as he sprinted for it, phasing through the fence, phasing through the tenacious guard dog. Then solid again, crying out as canine teeth sank into his arm. But fingers closed around the disk and he phased, clutching it and running for the fence, but already knowing it was too late an instant before fire lifted him up and rained down around him.

I don't recall dogs being in the intelligence that Beverley passed on to us. I didn't realise that was the problem. I was too busy taking my excess feelings out on those around me instead of checking for surprises. I should have found them and taken them out while Jesse was in the repository

The trembling's changed to shaking as I force myself to hit the key that will bring up the final clip.

The tears are burning behind my eyelids again and my gut is clenching. But I'm still not feeling anything, I'm still numb. Really, I am.

Jesse left the bike in the garage and walked wearily into Sanctuary, rubbing at tired eyes. His arm, even with the makeshift bandage around it, was dripping with blood and hurt like hell. He'd never have believed that one dog could do so much damage in so short a time.

He started towards the lab with the intention of getting it seen to first, but Adam calling out stopped him; there was news on Brennan. He replied without seeing the older man, abruptly diverting away from something that he was too exhausted in both body and soul to deal with. So he said he'd be by once he'd started the decryption program on the disk and had a shower. He didn't hear Adam's reply but was certain he'd understand.

Carefully making sure the blood didn't drip too much, holding his arm close so that his dark clothes soaked up most of it, he got a coffee and took it to his favourite workstation. He put the disk in and started the review stage of the decryption program.

He sat back in the pilot style chair and thought that he should probably get the bite seen to before he had a shower as it would be hell to clean up after. As it was the stains would be a nightmare to get out of the chair. After his coffee, when he'd got his scattered wits together.

While he waited for the program to do its thing, and the coffee to cool enough to drink, he thought hopefully Shalimar would feel better having let off some steam, and that maybe now they would talk again.

I don't want to see anymore, and I hit the key that will stop the show, but I'm shaking so hard I can't coordinate. I hit the keyboard and the picture freezes there, showing Jesse reclining on this same damned chair, his coffee mug balanced on the arm.

According to Adam, we were maybe twenty minutes behind Jesse, traffic having held us up. I could smell the blood straight away and that, coupled with Adam calling us, saying he had news on Brennan, led me to think the worst. I ran to the lab, horror and fright turning to overwhelming joy and delight as I saw Brennan half sitting up and smiling groggily. His colour was pale instead of grey and, although he had a long way to go, there was no longer any doubt that he would recover in time.

It was Adam who suggested I go find Jesse and make sure he knew and, while I had to agree that it was high time I talked to Jesse, time I got around making sure everything was okay between us, with all the negative feelings suddenly banished, I was afraid to face him. So I put it off a little while and talked to Brennan, let him ground me again. If I hadn't been so angry before, if Adam and Emma hadn't been so convinced that it was me that should go talk to Jesse maybe things would have turned out differently.

I'll never forget the picture I found. Jesse, in this same chair I'm in now, the monitor lighting up his face with green flashes as the 'Access Granted' flag told him that he'd breached the disk's security. His stormy blue eyes stared intently at the screen, his fingers resting motionlessly on the keyboard while the coffee in the mug I'd given him a long time ago sat on the arm of the chair.

I knew Jesse had been hurt by the stronger smell of blood, but there was little evidence other than the glistening dark shirt wrapped around his arm. So I told him how sorry I was. Told him it was just my way of dealing. That I'd never hurt him in a million years. Then I waited and ruffled his hair until he was ready to tell me how horrible he felt. Because that was the way things always went between us. He usually took a little while, but this time he was taking longer than usual. The green light kept flashing, and his hands remained still.

I told him gently that he needed to get a life, that old joke between us, as I leant over and hit the key that stopped the flashing. His hands slipped lifelessly from the keyboard and looking at his face I realised that his stormy blue eyes were staring intently at nothing, glassy and dead.

I guess I must have been in some kind of shock as I shook his shoulder and saw the blood that saturated the seat at his back. Still saturates the seat.

My fingers became covered and sticky with his blood as I felt for a pulse, left the dark tattoo of a child's finger painting as I pushed and gouged, trying to find evidence of the heartbeat that was no longer there, denying its absence. His lips were blue tinged and not just from the monitor, and although I knew he was gone, I couldn't let myself believe it.

Maybe I screamed, the soreness in my throat telling me I did, or maybe Emma felt him die, or Adam saw something on the internal scanners, but they came running, sliding to a standstill at what must surely have been a bloody tableau. I held tight to his shirt, unable to close his staring dead eyes, shaking us both, and insisted to anyone who would listen that he wasn't dead, he couldn't be because he was still warm.

They tried to pull me away, but I couldn't let go until his hand slid further back, knocking the coffee to the floor. The shattering mug and bittersweet fluid splashing across the polished wood reflected the irrevocable destruction of the bond between us.

Adam's pieced it all together, the shrapnel from the explosion embedded in his back, his kidneys, deep enough to slice into essential organs. The only thing he doesn't understand is how Jesse made it back to Sanctuary; shock may have blocked the pain, but he shouldn't have been able to move, much less ride a bike and then make coffee.

But I understand completely. He needed to get here, to the one place where he felt safe.

He needed to die at home.

In the exact same place that I found him.

I hurt all over, eyes burning raw, gut screwed ragged, and muscles pulled solid with the strain of holding it all in. But I'm still numb where it matters.

I can't feel a thing. I won't let myself.

I can't afford to anymore.

And if I tell myself that enough, then I won't hurt anyone else.

FINIS


End file.
